


Splintering Past, Constructed Future

by DrewWrites



Series: The Perfectly Flawed [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Recovering, First Kiss, Fluff, Kissing, Like, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control, Multi, Recovery, So much angst, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 06:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16279733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrewWrites/pseuds/DrewWrites
Summary: The man on the bridge says a name. Bucky. The Asset can feel that name crawl out of his heart and into his mind, where it rolls through his memories.Bucky is someone.Someone he knows.**Takes place in The Perfectly Flawed verse, but can be read as a stand-alone. However, some references will not make sense.





	Splintering Past, Constructed Future

**Author's Note:**

> It has been two months.
> 
> I have nothing to say for myself.
> 
> My version of the story does not include Bucky killing Tony’s parents cause that’s sad and I don’t want pain, you feel? I tried something a little different with this one, as I incorporated some skills I've picked up from my creative writing class.
> 
> Enjoy!

Doctor Arnim Zola stood behind a group of Hydra soldiers, wrapped head to toe in winter clothes. The wind whined in his ears and pierced his eyes. He wished he had brought a hat or some goggles, and the soldiers would hurry up. 

They were going to have huge problems if they didn’t find it soon. The temperature was well below freezing and it would severely harm the body, especially with how broken it was.

“Dr. Zola! We’ve found something!” A soldier yelled over the wind. Finally. Arnim couldn’t help but grin.

“Bring it over then! Don’t just stare at it,” he shouted back.

The biggest of the group began to drag what looked to be a large lump over to where Arnim was waiting by the truck. The lump began to move in the soldiers hold, and Arnim realized what they had finally found.

They had found it. The Asset. 

_His_ Asset.

* * *

Finding time between pretending to be a SHIELD scientist and helping Hydra program The Asset was a difficult balance. Being trusted by an American government agency was helpful when he needed better quality technology, however, so he didn’t complain. 

SHIELD and Hydra would be one and the same in a few years time, anyway.

The Asset was taking to his programming quite nicely. There were a few obstacles, of course. Getting the old identity out of his brain was a bit of a challenge as he seemed to cling to the idea of Captain Rogers like a mother bear.

No matter, Arnim was one of the best scientists on the planet. He eventually figured out how to create a balance between blank slate and coherent human being.

Now all they had to do was give The Asset orders for a mission, send him out, and put him on ice when they were done.

And SHIELD would be none the wiser to the cause of so many _accidents._

* * *

The Asset was resistant at first, but he learned quickly. He learned Hydra was the organization that controlled him, and he was to only serve them. If showed signs of his own agenda, he was punished.

He learned when he was given an order, he was to obey that order. If he did not obey that order, he was punished. 

Sometimes he would see flickers, dreams, of some golden smile. A pier in Brooklyn. The names of streets he had never been to.

But they were ripped from his brain, and he dreamt less and less.

He healed over the blank spaces with new skills and techniques.

He learned how to make deaths look like accidents. He now knew twenty languages.

Sometimes The Asset would think it was lonely. Sometimes he thought he was missing… something.

He didn’t think that for very long, though, because he was Hydra and Hydra was him. He was born for this, and Arnim looked at him with pride.

* * *

Training The Asset was the most time consuming part. Arnim had better things to do than watch The Asset got through the same move ten times, or practice with the same gun for fifteen minutes. But it was all necessary. He had to be the best.

When he was deemed ready for smaller scale missions, they sent him on a reconnaissance mission. The Asset performed perfectly. 

Arnim’s superiors were impressed, and his chances of having his perfect army were becoming greater.

* * *

The Asset crept through the hallway, keeping his feet steady. The old floorboards creaked every so often, but it was drowned out by the voices in the foyer. Taking one last glance up and down the dark hallway, he quietly turned the handle on the door to his right and floated in.

The Asset scanned the room, and took note of the two windows on the far wall, both with blinds drawn. He also noted the two vent covers on the ceiling.

Margaret Carter’s home office was immaculate. The book shelves appeared to be organized by height, the chairs on the far side of the desk were pushed under, and the desk itself was orderly. 

Aside from the pictures of what was presumably Carter’s family, the office was organized like a commander’s office.

The Asset quickly slid into Carter’s desk chair and used the key he had swiped of the woman to unlock the top drawer. He extracted the folder he had been ordered to retrieve. 

As he slid it closed, a picture frame on the desk caught his eye.

Carter was standing next to a tall, muscular man with a circular shield. On her other side was a slightly shorter man in a military uniform, and next to that man was a man in a suit. It wasn’t significantly different to any of the other pictures in the room, but it gave The Asset pause.

Flashes of a bright smile and blue eyes came to mind. He shook his head. 

The mission.

He had to finish his mission.

The drawer was pushed back in, locked, and The Asset was leaving as quickly and quietly as he had come.

* * *

Arnim Zola’s death was a near-disaster. Luckily, Hydra had no shortage of genius scientists. Zola’s brain was forever preserved on an underground data bank.

* * *

Howard Stark threw a wrench in Hydra’s plans to have the perfect army, delaying the project by months and stealing their super-soldier serum.

The man and his obsession with Captain Rogers would be the death of Hydra.

Howard Stark must die.

* * *

The Asset, currently known as the Winter Soldier when whispered about in dark hallways, sat on his perch across the street from a mansion. He had watched one car leave and another car arrive in the last few hours and had seen little to no activity within the house.

As the sun fell below the horizon, The Winter Soldier climbed down and glided his way to the side of the Stark Mansion.

Inside the first window was a decent sized office, presumably Howard Starks. At the moment, it was unoccupied.

The Asset slid the window up from the outside, and swung himself into the room. He took note of the door to what was likely the hallway, a closet door, and a door to the bathroom. Howard Stark appeared to be a messy man. There were papers strewn across the desk, empty bottles in the corner, and various gadgets lived on every flat surface.

Pictures adorned the wall, a few with dark haired woman, Maria Stark, and a few others with a bald man, Obadiah Stane. There didn’t appear to be any pictures of Howard’s son, Anthony Stark. 

The Winter Soldier roamed the room for a few minutes, gathering information on his target. There was a filing cabinet in the corner next to the desk, and he began to open the drawers.

The top one contained a few personal papers such as the lease for the house, insurance information and so on. The second drawer had paperwork for Stark Industries.

The third drawer was locked. He made quick work of the cheap drawer and quickly got it open. The mechanisms were stiff, as if it hadn’t been opened in a few years. The Winter Soldier grabbed the first file he saw and flipped it open.

_Project Rebirth_  
Status: Sealed  
Date: March 1941 

Something about the name made The Asset pause, but he continued reading.

_Subject: Captain Steve Rogers_

Captain Steve Rogers? Stevie. Short blond hair and children laughing. Why was he only getting frames of memories? It was like in Margaret Carter’s office. Peggy, his brain supplied.

Why did he know that?

Suddenly, he got the feeling that he shouldn’t kill Howard Stark. It didn’t matter what Hydra said, he could not take out this target. 

Howard Stark must live.

The Asset’s train of thought was interrupted by soft footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Howard?” A voice called. He snapped the folder shut and placed it back in its slot in the drawer, quickly shutting and locking it. The footsteps slowly grew closer to the office door.

“Howard? Dad?” 

The Asset quietly pulled the closet door open and stuffed himself inside, pulling the door closed behind him. He heard the footsteps reach the door and the sound of the handle being turned.

“Dad- oh.” Hesitant footsteps wandered mid-way into the office and stopped.

“Bastard isn’t even here when I show up for once,” the voice grumbled. The steps faded away from the room, and the door slammed closed behind them.

* * *

Howard and Maria Stark are dead.

The Winter Soldier is not responsible.

It’s the first time a glitch causes The Asset to fail a mission.

* * *

Alexander Pierce gives him his most high profile mission to date. The assassination that would give Hydra the throne. 

Nick Fury must die.

* * *

It takes a crashed car and a bullet to the chest to end an enigma. 

It also involves being chased by a self-righteous blond with a death wish. The experience reminds The Asset of a long-forgotten dream, gone like smoke.

Maybe they met on a mission.

* * *

The man on the bridge says a name. Bucky. The Asset can feel that name crawl out of his heart and into his mind, where it rolls through his memories.

Bucky is someone.

Someone he knows.

He asks Pierce about the blond man. He met him on a mission earlier this year. And he meets him again soon after.

Who is Steve Rogers?

* * *

Steve Rogers has become his mission. He stood in the way of Hydra.

Somewhere deep inside of The Asset, disappointment weaves its way through the cracks.

He has a hard time fighting The Captain and his winged friend. They were equally matched in skill. The bird less so, but it was still an even match.

They finally stood face to face again. The Asset waited for a few moments while Captain Rogers spoke to a ghost.

And then the fighting began in earnest. The Asset felt like he was fighting for more than Hydra. He felt like he was fighting for something beyond his grasp. It’s right there, but he can’t feel it. It’s there. It’s there.

It’s seeping in through his bones, it’s igniting his muscles, it’s powering his fists. Something is there and it rumbling to life within him.

It’s under The Asset’s fists.

It’s sinking into the Potomac.

James Buchanan Barnes has to pick up the pieces.

* * *

Bucky Barnes has been on the run from his past for months.

Entire days from the 40s appear and grow and push in on him like a storm. Steve Rogers is three different people and they all tumble around in his brain and scold him for old habits. They hack up a lung in the middle of winter, they tear frilly fabric to shreds, they save Bucky’s life.

Steve is Bucky’s past, but he’s also his doorway to the future.

Warmth crashes against his organs and the storm picks up speed.

* * *

Bucky stands in front of the Potomac, watching as construction scurries across the remains of the Triskelion. It’s 4 am. Very few birds are chirping, but the construction marches on.

Footsteps scrape the cement behind him.

“I had to pick up the pieces.”

“I know.”

Bucky turned to Steve. He could finally see him. Sandy hair and all. In his memories, Bucky sees Steve with burning eyes and raging fists. This Steve has stern eyes and crossed arms. 

Steve number four takes residence in Bucky’s head.

“I’m still picking up the pieces.”

“I know someone who can help us.”

Us. Like Bucky hadn’t been running for his goddamn life away from Steve.

But that was Steve. Always in love.

* * *

Bucky sees it the instant they arrive at the compound. Steve wraps a shorter man in his arms and presses him against his chest. The brown hair and tired face trigger another stolen memory.

The first thing out of Anthony Stark’s mouth is “What do you need me to do?”

It’s one of the few times Steve says “I don’t know.”

* * *

Tony Stark, as it turns out, knows a thing or two about memories and anxiety. 

At first he was only visiting Tony for tune-ups on his arm and occasional BARF sessions (strangely, that name brought up a memory of the pier).

But then he starts talking to Tony.

He isn’t resentful at Steve for falling for Tony, not anymore at least, because he is, too. It’s not like him and Stevie haven’t loved other people before. Peggy treated Steve well, and Steve still loved Bucky then, so why not now?

It is the 21st century, after all.

* * *

The workshop becomes the room Bucky spends most of his time in, second only to his bedroom.

He takes care of Tony when he runs out of steam or when the memories get to much for him. He doesn’t know why he’s so good at helping people. It shouldn’t make sense. He was made to kill.

Yet here he is, ready to be Tony’s safety net. 

Tony’s rambling is sometimes the only thing that keeps frames of blood and steel at bay. Sometimes, focusing on Tony fix a suit or work on a new upgrade pushes The Asset away from the memories he’s rebuilt.

Bucky thinks he does something for Tony in return. He seems relaxed and free and unrestrained when he’s explaining some wiring to Bucky.

* * *

“I’m sorry Bucky,” Tony says. He’s sitting on his work bench, head in his hands.

“Sorry for what, doll?” 

“I’m sorry Steve loves me. I’m sorry I can’t your Steve back.”

“He’ll always be my Steve. Who we love can’t change that,” Bucky rumbles.

Silence.

“I need some sleep.”

* * *

Steve joins them, eventually. He brings down yellowing sketchbooks overflowing with century old imitations of James Buchanan Barnes, and he brings pristine sketchbooks full of drawings of Tony Stark. It’s a familiar habit in this new Steve.

His pencil drags along the pages as Tony and Bucky work. Bucky works now. He helps Tony with the team’s gadgets.

Usually, they all have lunch or dinner, or both, in the workshop. They sit and eat takeout and exaggerate stories and laugh until they can’t breathe.

Bucky _laughs._

He doesn’t feel The Asset lurking in his bones anymore.

* * *

Things change. The air between Bucky, Steve, and Tony becomes charged. Electricity tumbles around them and arcs between them.

They don’t acknowledge it.

Until they do.

* * *

Bucky Barnes is kissing Anthony Stark. And soon after he’s kissing Steve Rogers.

_His_ Steve Rogers. Stevie.

Then his saviors are kissing.

They have a lot to talk about.

“We have a lot to talk about,” echoes Steve.

“Later,” Tony insists.

The future unfolds before Bucky’s eyes, and the past entangles itself alongside it. Somewhere, he lays between them, balancing on the idea that life goes on.

He is Bucky Barnes.

And he is alive.

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thank you so fucking much for being patient.
> 
> Second, THANK YOU for every single read, comment, and kudos on the works I've posted. They mean so much to me.
> 
> Third, let me know what you think of this one? I know it's not a whole lot different, but it was still a bit of a challenge for me. Leave a comment and let me know how I did!
> 
> find me on tumblr: andrew-writes-things  
> find my beta: religious-pizza-roll


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